Waiting for Christmas

There’s a day coming when the mountain of God’s House will be The Mountain— solid, towering over all mountains. All nations will river toward it, people from all over set out for it. They’ll say, “Come, let’s climb God’s Mountain, go to the House of the God of Jacob. He’ll show us the way he works so we can live the way we’re made.” He’ll settle things fairly between nations. He’ll make things right between many peoples. They’ll turn their swords into shovels, their spears into rakes. No more will nation fight nation; they won’t play war anymore.    Isaiah 2: 2-5

Are you looking forward to Christmas?  Let me see if I can guess why.

You'll get some time off school.

You might get to see some family you haven't seen in a long time.

There will probably be a tree in the house and beautiful decorations everywhere.

You look forward to a delicious Christmas dinner. You might look forward to Brussels sprouts (I do, but I may be on my own there!)

And what am I forgetting? Oh, yes, of course, presents! We love to give and receive presents.

Well, the waiting can be tough. There are still 2 days to go until Christmas.  But if you are really hoping and looking forward (especially if you are young) that can seem like 2 years.

Most of the people mentioned in the Bible had to wait. The reading above is from the prophet Isaiah, who described a wonderful future time of peace in the world someday. It's a time that seems far off when we hear about the wars in our world and fighting all over the world. But Isaiah has a message from God that it won't always be that way. This is what he says: in the future God will settle arguments between nations. They will pound their swords and their spears into rakes and shovels; they will never make war or attack one another again. It's a wonderful message. 

In this future, people will want to live the way God intended them to live. God will transform their hearts and teach them how to love. There will be no more war; in fact weapons will be turned into tools to grow food for the hungry.

Some of that has begun to happen for us. Jesus came and showed us that, by trusting in Him, we would live the kind of life that is full of love for other people. The One whose name means ‘God with us’ has come and is already changing some. There are now people who show His love by working to stop wars, to bring peace and to bring together people who have been enemies.

God so wanted this kind of change for us and the people around us that He sent the most precious thing He had – Jesus – to show us what real love is.  Jesus came to clear out all the mistakes and mess ups we have done so that, trusting in Him, we might get ready for this new way of life that God has planned.

We’re waiting for Christmas. It’s still 2 days away but it’s coming closer. We’re waiting for things to happen. Sometimes we have to wait for the school bus. Sometimes you have to sit in the waiting room for your dental appointment. That’s no fun. You don’t mind waiting a long time for that.

Sometimes you have to line up and wait to see a movie. That’s a hard kind of waiting. Waiting for the bell to ring. Waiting for dinner because you’re hungry. Waiting for the Internet – it can still sometimes take a long time before you can finally download something.

At this time of year, those of us who follow Jesus are waiting for something special too. We’re waiting for Jesus once again. We all know how Jesus came the first time: as a baby in a manger. But now we wait for Jesus to make all things whole again. To put this broken world right.

And, while we wait for everything to get sorted, we want to live as if it had already happened, to show others and remind ourselves what this new world will be like. 

Merry Christmas!  

Are there no workhouses?

“At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,” said the gentleman, taking up a pen, “it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.”

“Are there no prisons?” asked Scrooge.

“Plenty of prisons,” said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

“And the Union workhouses?” demanded Scrooge. “Are they still in operation?”

“They are. Still,” returned the gentleman, “I wish I could say they were not.”

“The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?” said Scrooge.

“Both very busy, sir.”

“Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,” said Scrooge. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

“Many can’t go there; and many would rather die.”

“If they would rather die,” said Scrooge, “they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”

Well it was the December meeting of our book club last night and, with a nod to the season, we’d read Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.  We all loved it.  It’s a swift read; humorous in places; moving in its conclusion. One of the great redemption stories, it suggests that practical concern for our neighbours' wellbeing is evidence of redemption taking place. It would do your heart good to read it!

We met on the same day the report “Feeding Britain” was published by the All-Party Parliamentary Inquiry into Hunger in the UK.  It tells of families that are so desperate to avoid being evicted for rent arrears, or the disconnection of their gas or electricity that they go without food, relying on foodbanks to make ends meet.  The report highlights the work of these voluntary foodbanks – run by churches, charities and other people of goodwill.  It calls the attention of politicians from all parties to acknowledge the “simple but devastating fact that hunger stalks this country.”

The poor are made to pay more for basic necessities, e.g. through pre-payment meters, because they cannot make direct debit payments to keep costs down.  If people make a simple mistake in their claims for benefits, they can face sanctions to punish them. And, from the point when you make a claim, some people can wait up to 16 weeks before they see any money.

Over 900,000 adults and children received three days’ emergency food and support from Trussell Trust foodbanks in 2013-14, a 163 percent rise on numbers helped in the previous financial year. 

All this, 171 years after the world first heard of Ebenezer Scrooge, in a country with the 6th largest economy in the world.

We have not begun to imagine the breathtaking scale of prolonged cuts to welfare that will follow next year’s election.  None of the major political parties offers the slightest hope for us as a nation. The Conservatives will dismantle welfare provision with relish, as they roll back the state for ideological reasons. Labour entirely fails to convince that it has any real alternative to offer. The LibDems deserve the political oblivion they may face - and who could trust them in any case?  UKIP trades on fear and hatred and they should be opposed by all people of goodwill.

In this waiting season of Advent, we remind ourselves that the promised Christ was carried by a mother used to a hand-to-mouth economy, in a time of volatile politics. In her fragile voice we hear the hope that God offers, as we await His remaking of this broken world:

"He has brought down rulers from their thrones

but has lifted up the humble.

He has filled the hungry with good things

but has sent the rich away empty."

A light in dark times

The cold and grey of winter are upon us now. The parks are closing earlier and it gets dark by 4pm.

Our ancestors rose at the first light of day and slept after sunset. In centuries past people feared the growing darkness which came with the shortening days of autumn.  Festivals grew up to celebrate the hoped-for return of the sun after 21st December. 

In our century, the darkness can blaze like noon at the flick of a switch. To get frightened we turn off the lights and watch scary movies!

Yet the darkness can still frighten people today, even in our world of 500 watt bulbs.  We light our streets so brightly because of the fear of crime.  Death – the ultimate darkness – is the last great taboo topic of conversation in our times; people still fear what lies beyond this life. 

As the American short story writer, O. Henry, lay dying he called for a candle to be lit.  Asked why, he replied: “I don’t want to go home in the dark.”

All of us face times of darkness sometimes. Times when all the joy seems to have drained out of life.

The Bible says of Jesus: “In him was life and that life was the light of mankind. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.“

The season of Advent, which begins this weekend, brings the message that although we cannot always avoid dark times we are not left to face them alone. 

One of the names of Jesus is ‘God-with-us.’ Which does not mean that he wears a red cape and flies through the air faster than a speeding bullet to rescue us. He doesn’t leap tall buildings at one bound. He doesn’t usually take us out of dark situations. That isn’t the promise. 

The promise of the season is that God is with us. That he enters our world and our experiences to be there with us. Knowing this, through the centuries people have had new courage to face harrowing times because they no longer feel alone.

That promise holds true for us today.  God promises to be with you and me - today - as a light in our darkness.  

And sometimes that promise is fulfilled when you or me, joining-in with what God is doing unseen, phones or visits or listens or hugs someone and, in that moment, we glimpse the invisible God-with-us.

Leek and mushroom risotto

At the end of November, with colder, shorter days, it's good to have something hearty and warming to look forward to at dinner time.

This risotto, made in the microwave, has become a firm family favourite over the past year or so. It is simple to make, very filling and tastes wonderful.  The recipe below serves 4.

You will need

• 25g butter
• 1 tablespoon of oil
• 1 leek, cut into slices
• 1 crushed garlic clove
• 300g risotto / Arborio rice
• 850 ml hot vegetable stock
• 250g chestnut mushrooms
• 50g grated hard cheese (Parmesan or similar is best)

1.   Put the butter, oil, leek and garlic into a Microwave safe bowl, cover and cook on High for 5 minutes.

2.   Stir the rice into the leeks, add stock, season and stir

3.   Cook uncovered on high for 10 minutes

4.   Throw in the mushrooms, stir and cook uncovered on High for 6 minutes

5.   Mix in half the cheese and leave the risotto to stand for 5 minutes

6.   Serve and sprinkle the remaining cheese on top.

Enjoy.

Thoughts on Remembrance Sunday evening

Although we can run away from situations and places and slip them to the back of our minds, no matter how hard, fast or far we run we can never quite get away from ourselves. Sometimes we do or say things without really thinking why and we hurt others or ourselves. Then one day, weeks, months or years later, our thoughtless or casual words catch up with us.

The gospel-writer Luke uses a telling phrase that describes the turning point in the life of the wasteful boy in the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15): “And he came to himself.” In other words, he had to be reconciled to himself, to accept his own flaws and admit his mistakes before his life was turned around. 

Today is about remembering the millions of men, women and children who have died in human conflict. Some were soldiers, sailors or airmen; others were civilians. We also remember the victims of terrorist attacks and those who daily place themselves in danger, so that we might live in safety. It's right that we should, even as we ask searching questions about why so many died and still suffer.

On the cross next to Christ’s hung a thief. Close to death, he came to himself -  to his senses - and recognised in Jesus what some find so hard to see: that he was uniquely different. All that he asks of Jesus is to be remembered. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Christ’s reply was simple and clear: “Today, you will be with me in paradise.”

Jesus came to give us that which we could not buy, earn or merit by our own hand: forgiveness, a new start and the invitation to share with Him in offering to others that same reconciliation with God.

Today we acknowledge death and pain but we then look beyond to the God who, sacrificially, entered into death and pain for us.

That is a true remembrance, today and every day.

Remember, remember...

When I was a kid the Fifth of November was always called Guy Fawkes’ Night. It was named after one of the conspirators who stockpiled gunpowder in the crypt of the Houses of Parliament in November 399 years ago, in the hope that the explosion would kill the protestant King James, so creating a crisis that would usher in a new Roman Catholic king.

Guy (or Guido) Fawkes was a soldier left to watch secretly over the kegs of gunpowder.  However, someone disclosed the plot to the authorities and Fawkes and his friends were arrested, tortured and executed in a way designed to deter others from trying to overthrow the king.  For that reason, it was common to make a Guy each year and push ‘him’ around the streets seeking “Penny for the Guy.” The various pennies would be spent on fireworks and R. Whites’ pop and the Guy would be thrown onto the bonfire. Happy days.

Let’s be clear that King James was no saint (despite burdening the church with the Bible named after him, with its idolatrous and sycophantic preface) but he didn’t deserve to be blown to bits. By the same token, the Gunpowder Plot conspirators – acting as they did out of misguided conscience – did not deserve to be tortured, mutilated and then subjected to a prolonged death.  A comparison of Fawke’s two signatures above, after and before 9 days’ torture in the Tower of London, hints at what such torture can do.

Well ‘autre temps, autre moeurs’, as we so often say in Essex. We must not judge the actions of people 4 centuries ago by modern moral standards.  Yet, in spite of all the advances we have made as a human race, such barbarity continues.  Just yesterday, an enraged mob tortured a young Pakistani Christian couple and incinerated their bodies in a brick kiln in eastern Pakistan. The young wife was pregnant.

And the suspicion continues to prevail that our government (yes, the government of the United Kingdom in the 21st century) has colluded in the illegal kidnapping, transportation and torture of people within the past 10 years.  Human rights law bans the use of torture or inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment. This requires not only that countries do not engage in torture or subject people to ill-treatment, but that they don’t become complicit in torture or ill-treatment. Yet, over the past few years, increasing evidence has come to light of UK knowledge of, and involvement in, the CIA’s post 9/11 programme of ‘extraordinary rendition’ (that is, kidnapping people and secretly transporting them to places where they can be ‘questioned’ out of the public gaze) and in attempts to use information obtained through the use of torture as evidence in UK courts.

The UK High Court has found in relation to Mr Binyam Mohamed, a former Guantanamo Bay detainee, that UK security services helped US authorities interrogate Mr Mohamed although they knew that he was being detained unlawfully and in cruel, inhuman and degrading conditions. As recently as last month, the Court of Appeal ruled that a husband and wife who were ‘rendered’ to then President Gaddafi’s prisons, allegedly in a secret deal by Tony Blair, are to be allowed their day in court.

The trouble is that most of any documentary proof rests in the hands of people who, if they are guilty, will not disclose it. So both the Americans and the UK government are refusing to disclose the facts, citing ‘national security reasons’, though political embarrassment and fear of prosecution may be equally powerful motives.

399 years after the Gunpowder Plot, we no longer believe, whatever our consciences tell us, that it’s OK to blow up the sovereign or parliament. We no longer castrate, mutilate, torture, disembowel, partially hang then slice ‘baddies’ into four parts, even for the crime of treason. In fact we don’t even go collecting Penny for the Guy anymore.

And no country that wants to look any other in the eye should just choose to look the other way when it knows that people are being kidnapped and tortured by a superpower. We should prosecute those we suspect, whoever they are. It is time the torturers - and their political masters - start to feel afraid.  

Autumn - a time to sloe down

I love this time of year. 

OK, so the clocks go back on Sunday but we have some clear, crisp days and Guy Fawke’s Night to look forward to. It is also the season for picking sloes for sloe-gin. We were out at the weekend and collected 4½ lbs (slightly over 2kgs). Don't expect me say where - people guard their sources!

We first started making this warming and delicious drink when we moved out of London 5 years ago.  The first year we tried a small batch made in a large glass coffee jar but, as demand from family and friends has grown, production has increased.

This year the ‘foodies’ have tried their hand at sloe-gin, both online and in the media, and are already complicating what is a very simple recipe. So how do you make it?

First pick your sloes. These are the fruit of the blackthorn: the last of the English fruiting trees to produce in the year and the one with the bitterest fruit.  Sloes should be plump, marble-size, black-blue in colour, often with a white bloom on the surface. Avoid other black berries which are shiny and which cluster together as they may be poisonous. 

Traditionally you wait to pick sloes until the first frost, which breaks open the skin ready to release the juice. But if they are plump with ripeness, pick then rinse and stick them in the freezer overnight. When you defrost them they are mostly already split and ready to infuse the gin.

You will need an air-tight jar or demijohn. Kilner jars (with the rubber seals and metal clips) work well, but you can use any glass jar that seals.  Sterilise the jar by washing it and then leaving in the oven for 20 minutes on 130C/Gas Mark 1.

Pour the sloes, sugar and gin in the jar.  To 500g sloes, add 230-250g sugar (some like their drink less sweet) and 1 litre of gin. Use really ordinary, basic gin – Sainsbury / Tesco / Asda own brand.  Although Jamie Oliver and others will argue for using more expensive gin, we have found the cheaper the gin the more the end flavour is truly sloe. (TV chefs may be able to afford lots of expensive gin but who else can?). Seal the jar and give it a jolly good shake. Shake it daily for a week, then every other day for a further week, then weekly for two months. Then put it away in the dark somewhere and leave it there for a year.  

Yes, a year.

If you’ve picked the fruit in October, some very impatient people will be drinking the product at Christmas but it really does pay to wait at least a year before drinking. Strain the mixture (try using a coffee filter paper) and then enjoy. We are currently drinking 2012 sloe-gin but know of friends who allow theirs to mature far longer, apparently with excellent results.

Remember that it has a very high alcohol content.

If alcohol is not helpful to you, another autumn favourite is an excellent Ginger cake, for which the recipe is here in a blog from September last year.  

Enjoy!

Death and friendship

On Friday evening my sister telephoned to say that one of our childhood friends had died. He was my age.

We had not kept in touch. Whole decades of his life were a mystery to me. Now gone.

I am fascinated to discover how life has turned out for those with whom I grew up, went to school, studied or worked. Why will two lives rooted in the same soil grow so differently? Why – given a shared start – did their life take that turning; mine another? 

And then the phone rings. In the midst of life, we are in death.

It seems to me that life holds very few deep friendships. We overlap briefly, owing to shared time, location or circumstance.

Not knowing quite what to think about William’s death and how to react, I was glad of an opportunity yesterday to spend the morning helping more recent friends to move house. We shared the morning disassembling furniture, filling the van and then bringing a first load round to the new home. Five hours where time was spent purposefully together in a shared space; a finite time counting far more than a shallow and casual acquaintanceship.

Then, for the afternoon and early evening, some time spent with a group of friends with whom we had shared a journey of 28 years: reminding, listening and dusting off old jokes. Telling heartrending stories of what had happened since we last met but knowing that, despite the pain, the stories are safer in the telling.

Some were there who had lost touch with us and now promised to come soon to have fish and chip suppers with us in Southend. And for us to visit them – making that slight detour from the A1 that we had always promised to whenever passing. 

This was a time to note with much pleasure that, for the Cranbrook family, at last ‘the lines had fallen for them in pleasant places’ as it says in Psalm 16. I saw the next stage in the mending of broken things beyond, perhaps, what I had thought possible.

“Life is made up of meetings and partings. People come into your life everyday, you say good morning, you say good evening, some stay for a few minutes, some stay for a few months, some a year, others a whole lifetime. No matter who it is, you meet and then you part.”

Important, then, to be mindful of the people in our lives who matter most. For all times seem short when they have gone.

While earth abides

“While earth abides, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter and day and night shall not cease. ” (Genesis 8: 22)

This is the season of Harvest Festival - a good point in the year to look back, take stock, count our blessings and be thankful for all we have and enjoy.

Every culture has their own tradition of celebrating what is most basic to their survival: the food that comes from the earth.  For those of us who do not make our living from the land, we have some distance to travel to connect the meaning of harvest to our daily life. Without thinking, we may end up believing that we are what we are, and have what we have, because of our own hard work, a good education and a decent upbringing. Yet achievement and possessions are not why we are welcomed and embraced by the God who offers sunshine and rain to all people.

I believe that each of us is created and loved by God regardless of who we are, out of love alone. At harvest time, we come simply to say "thank you". 

So what are you thankful for?  How about jotting down a list each night before falling asleep?  

Being mindful of all the things for which you can be thankful boosts your well-being and immune system, research suggests. In a series of experiments detailed in a 2003 study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, listing all the things you are thankful for is linked with a brighter outlook on life and a greater sense of positivity.

To close, a Franciscan blessing: 

"May God bless us with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that we may live deep within our heart.  May God bless us with a righteous anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that we may work for justice, freedom and peace.  May God bless us with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that we may reach out our hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.  May God bless us with motivation to believe that we can make a difference in this world, so that we can do what others claim cannot be done. With God's help, Amen."

When did we forget that church is for broken people?

When did we first forget that church is for broken people?

When did we start to think that church is for people who are sorted and OK? 

Two men go to worship God. 

The first is a good man. He is respected by his fellow worshippers. He is familiar with the patterns of worship. Above all, he is confident because he knows that he has done everything expected of him. He is not like the scumbag next to him. No, it is from his confidence and the way he lives that he now prays to God.

The other is not a good man. Everyone else going to worship that day is astonished to see him there. They hate him. This man collaborates with the enemy. He fleeces people of their hard earned money, turning over the bulk of it to those who have invaded their country but keeping a good margin for himself. He is ill-at-ease with worship, for he has not been to worship for oh so long. He is far from confident. In fact, he is quite literally beating himself up, smashing his hands against his chest.

Which of these guys truly encountered and engaged with God in that place?

You can read the story here and listen to the full talk here.

Please....de-baptize me

"Please de-baptize me," she said.
The priest's face crumpled.
"My parents tell me you did it," she said.
"But I was not consulted. So
Now, undo it."
The priest's eyes asked why.
"If it were just about belonging to
This religion and being forgiven,
Then I would stay. If it were just
About believing
This list of doctrines and upholding
This list of rituals,
I'd be OK. But
Your sermon Sunday made
It clear it's
About more. More
Than I bargained for. So, please,
De-baptize me."
The priest looked down, said
Nothing. She continued:
"You said baptism sends
Me into the
World to
Love enemies. I don't. Nor
Do I plan to. You said it means
Being willing to stand
Against the flow. I like the flow.
You described it like rethinking
Everything, like joining a
Movement. But
I'm not rethinking or moving anywhere.
So un-baptize me. Please."
The priest began to weep. Soon
Great sobs rose from his deepest heart.
He took off his glasses, blew his nose, took
Three tissues to dry his eyes.
"These are tears of joy," he said.
"I think you
Are the first person who ever
Truly listened or understood."
"So," she said,
"Will you? Please?"

                      - Brian McLaren

A tale of two Gibsons

I was up early this morning to take delivery of some fencing panels, which meant that I was standing outside the house when Gibson was taking his grandma for their morning walk.

Gibson is the black Labrador who lives round the corner.  Though he enjoys a friendly fuss, he always wants to get about on business of his own, so he gives an impatient bark if Gran spends too long chatting with neighbours.

When first introduced some months ago I had assumed he was named after Wing Commander Guy Gibson VC DSO DFC of the Dambusters, who himself had a chocolate brown Labrador, which [spoiler alert] doesn’t make it to the end-credits of the film. Guys of my generation were raised on black-and-white British war movies, with heroes that don’t say too much but go out and give Jerry a good pasting. You can watch the film's original trailer by clicking here.

It says much about us Brits that we cry buckets for the dog but not so for the thousands affected by the successful raid on the Ruhr dams. But then if the Germans had sensibly elected a Labrador instead of Hitler, things would have taken a very different course. I mean, we sometimes think of Churchill as a bulldog. And listen to him speak. The clues are all there...

As it happens Gibson is named after the Gibson Les Paul guitar. Hmm.

Anyways G, with his sense of smell up to 100,000 times more acute than mine, immediately detected that I had just eaten a bacon sandwich.  This was reason enough to put the walk on hold while he quickly identified the fact that it was smoked bacon, Danish from western Jutland, from the right-hand loin of the pig. A few moments more and he would have identified the donor pig by name (Labradors are pretty clever). But for once Gran wanted to make some progress and so they set off once again.

This week Dr Michael Mosley set out the startling fact in the excellent BBC TV science series Horizon that eating bacon may well curtail your life by up to 2 years. I like and respect Dr Mosley.  We are roughly the same age and he seems to know a thing or two. I admire the fact that he experiments on his own body, for example by infecting himself with tapeworms or by trying the 5:2 diet. I see no reason to doubt his claim about the foreshortening of life.

Guy Gibson in the centre. He was only 26 when killed in action

Moderation is key to diet, I feel. "Steady on, old chap," as the Wing Commander might have said. "Not bacon every morning." And, of course, I don’t.  Mostly it’s toast or muesli or grapefruit when I can get it.

But the Dambusters of 617 Squadron (like all RAF crews on ‘Ops’) tucked in to bacon before taking off on their fateful flight.

So I thought I’d share that neither Gibson nor I have any intention of eschewing the occasional rasher of back or streaky, whatever the medics may say. If that means clocking-off a tad early, then 'cheerio'.

What are you doing here?

Have you seen the film High Noon?  

It's an Oscar-winning 1952 western starring Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly. In black and white and in real time, the film tells the story of a town marshal forced to face a gang of killers alone, when everyone else deserts him – including all the ‘good’ townsfolk. Throughout the film is the haunting melody of Tex Ritter singing “Do not forsake me Oh my darling…”  You can watch the original trailer here.

This is the kind of western where the hero is a loner, usually driven towards a showdown with the bad guys against his will.  It comes down to the hero versus the rest. He's generally a reasonable man, pushed that little bit too far. And then he has to face down the baddies.

I love the story of Elijah in the bible, not least because it shares some of the same themes. Ancient Israel has been under the rule of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. The Bible tells us that Ahab was more evil than all of his predecessors. Bad stuff is happening. It is against that backdrop that God sends Elijah, the greatest of the Old Testament prophets, to go and stand in front of King Ahab and announce a drought which, it turned out, was to last for nearly three years. 

Elijah must have been quite a character.  All that we really know about him is that he was from Tishbe, which can mean “pioneer town”.  He was a settler, maybe quite rough and ready - probably ill-at-ease in the sophistication of the King’s palace. 

Ahab and Jezebel got pretty fed up with Elijah being the spoilsport, who insisted on reminding them of their obligation to live life with a moral dimension. It got messy. It all came to a head when, in chapter 18 of the First Book of Kings, Elijah steps forward in front of all the people and asked them how long they were going to sit on the fence?  They have to make a choice for God. There then follows quite a shootout…

And yet, not long after in the story, we find Elijah lying under a bush praying for death.  And here is another reason why I love the story of Elijah.  Despite the very different culture and context, it rings true to human experience.  Elijah experiences the whole of life – he is not a cardboard hero. There are not only the mountaintop experiences but also the valleys; the peaks and troughs that human beings experience as part of ordinary life. Just like us.

And now, in chapter 19 (which you can read here), we see that the greatest of the OT prophets finds himself in the wrong place.  He’s lying feeling defeated, curled up in the foetal position,

anxious and hidden.  But God then gives him the three things he most needs: sustenance, company and encouragement.  With the strength of the food and encouragement, Elijah is able to take a step forward in his recovery. 

In life, of course, we have to start from wherever we find ourselves.  As human beings we often make a mess of things and often we are not in a place where it’s easy to see a way forward. We sometimes feel anxious. Yet while he is most in need, in the story God asks: “Elijah, what are you doing here?”

I wonder if any of you reading this are in such a place today? Down a hole. In a pickle. Can’t see the way back or forward.  Like Gary Cooper, facing something that you dread.

God who speaks and reveals Himself to His people at all times and in all places, not in a loud and noisy way but in a gentle whisper, says to you today, “why are you in that place where you find yourself right now?” Not a finger-wagging, blame-laden question but one that brings with it the offer of sustenance, company and encouragement.

Is that where you are today?

It is part of life that we experience the peaks and troughs; the mountaintop experiences and the places where the light finds it hard to reach. As the next part of the story unfolds, not all of Elijah’s questions were answered. Yet God gave Elijah the opportunity to carry on journeying with Him. He gave him nourishment, company and encouragement, some tasks and a purpose for living.

Though we may lack answers to our questions, the place where we most can hope to receive clarity is in the company of the God who still seeks relationship with people today. People like us.  

One hundred years on

Harold Smith was a Sergeant in the 9^th Brigade, Field Artillery, when he was killed on Friday, October 26, 1917 in Belgium.

John and Elizabeth McGonegal mourned for their son, also called John, a private in the Light Infantry. He was 20 years old when he died on Friday, August 30, 1918, and was buried in France. He was the second one from his village to die in service of King and Country. 

William Robert Muckle, 87^th Battalion, had been killed in France on Saturday, October 21, 1916. His body was never found, lost in the mud and shells of the battlefield.

Sergeant Frederick James – my half-uncle: the eldest of my father’s siblings. In the trenches, he received a letter from home in 1916 from his mother, my granny, which finished with ‘love from brother Don,’ referring to my dad who was just a few weeks old and a brother Fred didn’t know he had.

Four names. Plus millions of others that are now remembered, perhaps, by no one except by those who visit the huge war memorials like the one at Vimy Ridge and who we commemorate at the centenary of the start of the First World War on Monday, 4 August.

The men who returned were not the same people who volunteered following declaration of war in 1914.  For them, the world had changed forever and they had to learn to live with what they had been through. It was supposed to have been so different: soldiers fighting to rid the world of an evil. They were to make the world safe when they entered the Great War in 1914. But those young men had had their idealism challenged and often shattered in the mud and trenches of the battlefields. 

Some of them came from the town where we live or maybe the house we now call home. They looked like us; had the same hopes for life as us.

And neither do we forget also those brave men and women who, because of their principles – including their faith - would not bear arms but served in other ways.

Most of us cannot comprehend the horrors of war.  But sometimes, great loss comes closer to home.  On 11^th September 2001 we saw evil unfold in front of us, committed by the people who crashed 4 civilian jet liners into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and in rural Pennsylvania. The horror of it and why and how had they taken control of the airplanes and turned them into weapons of destruction; we wonder still and are shaken.

I remember working at my computer and, as so often, having the Internet news running quietly in the background.  I saw the breaking news and then walked to the television where I stood, numb, watching the airliners crash again and again into the towers as the news clips were repeated.

Someone watching those same events, wrote some lines to help deal with what he saw:

I remember the fallen,
those lost in thick black smoke.
I remember the terror-stricken in four planes
Above the earth before the crash.
I am reminded of the fear of those trapped 110 storeys above the ground.
Tears are my prayers.

One hundred years after the beginning of the Great War (the “war to end all wars”), conflict and strife remain in so many places: Ukraine, Syria, Gaza – as well as those many hundreds of ‘little’ wars that simmer just below the threshold of attracting TV news coverage and therefore pass unnoticed by us.

Yesterday, Life & Faith Group – a Friday lunchtime collection of friends and truth-seekers I belong to – had a discussion  about arguments: their causes, their effects and how we as followers of Christ should approach them, given that they are so common to our race. In one sense a little, local argument over something trivial should not be compared to a conflict where people are being injured or killed. Yet each arises from the same causes: fear; frustration; misunderstanding or selfishness.

Jesus told his followers that when they visited a home they should pray peace upon it. We are called to be peacemakers (something that requires effort and activity, not simply standing back and keeping quiet).  We are led to speak the truth, lovingly – meaning not that we should coat our words in sugar but that we should care enough to speak truth even when people won’t want to listen. 

On Monday, 4^th August we commemorate the deaths, injuries and losses experienced by soldiers in the Great War and their families: British, Belgian, French, Italian, Russian, Turkish, Indian, Australian, New Zealander, Canadian. Oh yes, and German, Austrian, Hungarian and others too.

There will be a lot of sanctimonious talk  by politicians about their 'sacrifice' but life was as precious to them as it is to us. On this day, we are asked to remember. But remembering alone is not enough. We must prevent strife from taking root in us and we should care enough to be peacemakers.

Untouchable

Philippe is a rich, aristocratic Frenchman paralyzed from the neck down as a result of a paragliding accident.  A widower, he lives with his teenage daughter in a luxurious house in Paris. 

The time has come for him to hire a new carer to assist him with his daily physical needs.  Rejecting all the better qualified candidates, he hires Driss from Senegal who doesn’t want the job but has applied for the job to ensure he keeps getting his welfare benefits.

An ex-con, the streetwise Driss brings some excitement to the overly-protected Philippe.  After a while, a friendship begins to develop.

This 2011 film ('Intouchables' in French with English subtitles – not to be confused with the 1987 Kevin Costner film) was recommended by a colleague as part of my sabbatical viewing.  It’s loosely-based on a true story. We borrowed it from Essex Libraries.

We watched it twice in a week – I don’t recall a movie making me laugh so much in a long time.  There’s a link to the trailer here. 

Give yourself a treat and watch it.

The sound of silence

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed (Mark 1:35)

I began my recent sabbatical with a retreat at a Franciscan retreat house in a quiet and lonely place in the Lincolnshire fens.

Jesus set us a good pattern for living when he went away for a short time from daily life, not just to get a break from it all but to rediscover peace and the quiet voice of God, which is often heard when we stop making so much noise.

I wake up to the radio. Almost without thinking, as I get into the car I put on the radio or a CD. When I am working, Facebook or Spotify are often on in the background. And even when there is no external noise, still inside my brain is whirring with thoughts and unfinished conversations. 

Surprisingly, faith as we know it often gets in the way of just-God-and-us-together.  We sing. We read aloud. We watch videos and read books. My prayers are full of me speaking.

"When we try to express….God in words, our minds quickly come up short. But, in the depths of our being, through the Holy Spirit, Christ is praying far more than we imagine.

“Although God never stops trying to communicate with us, this is never in order to impose. The voice of God is often heard only in a whisper, in a breath of silence. Remaining in silence in God’s presence, open to the Holy Spirit, is…..prayer.

"The road…..is not one of achieving inner silence at all costs by following some technique that creates a kind of emptiness within. If, instead, with a childlike trust we let Christ pray silently within us, then one day we shall discover that the depths of our being are inhabited by a Presence." 


Brother Roger of Taizé

So I spent a short time at a Franciscan house in a quiet location, to try and reset the balance. This place has a focus on finding Jesus at the centre through bring quiet. 

I went to the 4 simple gatherings in the chapel each day – a few words of liturgy following by 20-30 minutes of shared silence. This is not the kind of retreat where you are given something – for example, a verse of two of the Bible – to reflect upon. Silence is simply being in God’s presence without having to prattle prayers or do anything.  

It quickly becomes very liberating, not least for someone addicted to activity, noise and being in control.

I took some long walks - there is a river opposite and a nature reserve close by.  I saw many butterflies and watched a barn owl patrol the river bank.  I saw a heron snatch an eel from the river and fly away with it. There is some spiritual companionship available if you wish it, though I simply shared coffee and a little conversation with the hosts once a day.

In the guest barn you cook for yourself.  There is no TV.  There is broadband but actually I let go of the Internet for my short stay. The pace of life is slower: walking, reading, cooking and enjoying a bottle of velvety Merlot.

It was a good start to a period of slowing down and stopping, though I should have stayed a little longer.  I returned from sabbatical determined not to slip back into thoughtless activity. 

All my previous retreats have been silent ones. They suit me; they may not suit everyone.  But if Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed (Luke 5:16) then maybe it’s worth a try.  

I’d be glad to steer anyone towards places and ideas for a day retreat or longer.